Leave tomorrow for tomorrow
by SimplyUnmistakable
Summary: Percy aimed high. He aimed for perfection. They say perfection doesn't exist, though. Maybe that's why nothing actually seemed to work. He was constantly disappointed by his life. His career was going well, but not fast enough, it seemed. If only something -anything- would happen... Percy/Audrey


**A/N:** _Moved here from another site where I used to post._

Percy was awakened by the annoying sound of a telephone. Having such a muggle device was already obligation in the days of 2010, first, as recognition of the acceptation of muggles as equals; second, because, of the same reason, the muggle devices had become too important in the wizarding business. If you wanted to keep in touch with everything, you had to start evolving more and more.

Percy was usually a really careful man. He aimed high. He aimed for perfection. They say perfection doesn't exist, though. Maybe that's why nothing actually seemed to work. He was constantly disappointed by his life. His career was going well, but not fast enough, it seemed. He aimed to be Ministry one day, but opportunities of showing his qualities were rare and he had not the patience to wait. He was just some years away from thirty and still quite far from being named the Head of his department. Moreover, he had recently had another argument with his father concerning his "lust for power". He didn't have any "lust for power". He just wanted what he deserved after so many years of hard work.

And, on the other hand, there was Penelope, wanting marriage and kids. He had other things to settle at the time. He wasn't ready to dedicate his time to a family of his. He wanted it, too, but just when he'd be really ready for it, ready to live for that family. Right then, he lived for different things - that was all.

And that stupid phone wouldn't stop! He didn't even recognize the sound of it, like it was unfamiliar... Silly, he had had the same song for years! Or maybe last night... Yeah, he might had changed it last night. He must have done many stupid things last night – he wouldn't know. He just knew he had drunk a lot. Where had he been? For how much time? No idea. He had such an annoying headache... and that stupid telephone wouldn't just stop!

"Hello?" His voice was husky 0 damn. He prayed it wasn't Penelope. She'd have known he had drunk and that it was because of her. She didn't have to know that.

"Hi. Err... did you sleep well..?"

That wasn't Penelope's voice. Yet, that didn't make him feel better. Who was that woman, calling to ask 'if he slept well '. But before him to ask who that was, the voice has spoken again:

"You know, first thing I'd like to know your address," and at the sound of that he wondered if he maybe didn't hear well.

"Wha-?"

"...because I have no idea where I am!" Now she sounded quite irritated, "Do you?"

"Me what?" That conversation already lost all its sense.

"Listen, I get it you just woke up, didn't you?"

"Yeah...?"

"Well, look around." Who was the woman and what was all that nonsense about? He looked around to see his usual blue curtains and almost perfectly dark room even in the day, but, instead, he found pink curtains, brought together at each side of the large window by two butterflies-like staples (in a darker pink), leaving the bright summer light inside. That was the first shock, but not the biggest. Moving his eyes across the entire room, he saw a TV and other electronics and, when he got to the phone, he winced at seeing anything but his classic telephone.

"Muggle...," he accidentally muttered. She didn't hear well, but thought of it as cursing and couldn't blame him for cursing. She herself had done enough of that since waking up, realizing she had not been at home, that she hadn't had her phone or her wallet or any idea of the owner of the house. In the end, she realized that if she had got someone's things, someone had had to have hers and so she had called her number and prayed for a miracle.

" HELL. are you," he managed to mumble after a couple of minutes.

"Well, well, Mister, I could ask you the same thing," she replied immediately, not intimidated at all by his harsh tone, "And, honestly, you shouldn't be the angry one: at least, there's coffee in my house!"

"Well, my girlfriend used to make the shopping and she..." Why was he actually giving explanations?

"Fucking forget the coffee, woman!" he suddenly snapped, "Don't you think there are more important things to discuss right now like, how the hell did you get in my house or something?" The bright light was also annoying him like Hell, so he got up and took off the stupid butterflies, letting the curtains fall and cover the huge window.

"I am a business woman. I need coffee. I need coffee to start a day of work. Excuse me for not thinking of the other problem. It's not like you're in my house, too, right?"

"It's Sunday, _business woman_!"

"Well, some work on Sundays, too!" she snapped back. He knew that. _He_ worked on Sundays, although it seemed so unnatural to hear from others that they did it, too.

"Will you fucking tell me the address, so I could know how to get home? I looked out the window, but I can't see taxies or anything!"

_Oh, sure, just get through the Diagon Alley and..._He rolled his eyes and the thought and murmured in the phone:

"Let me get there and I'll lead you home," he told with a sigh, hanging up before her to have any chance to add anything more. Before he could get to at least get up from the bed, the phone rang again. He picked it up.

"Don't you dare hang up before I say you can! You're no gentleman!"

He rolled his eyes again, promising himself to never drink this much again.

"Excuse me, _lady_, is there anything else you wanted to say?" he mumbled irritated while taking on his coat.

"No, _my dear_, that was all - _thank you for asking_," she emphasized the last part and hung up herself.

Before walking out the flat, he looked in her purse (that he has just realized he had had) and took out the keys to close the door. He looked one more time around before getting out, remembering once more of the annoying voice and feeling better at the thought he'd just get rid of her and never see the woman again.

"Hey, I brought coffee!"and he thanked God for that because, otherwise, he had no idea of how to announce some random girl he was in. Which was her name, though? Did she mention it? Probably not. He had a perfect memory. He would have remembered.

Either by recognizing his voice, either at the thought of coffee, she walked out immediately, wearing some old blouse of Penelope fact that somehow irritated him (couldn't tell if because it reminded him Penelope was not there or for the fact that someone else wearing it was out of normal and he loved ordered things) and an old pair of some trousers of his (that was even more irritating). Shee walked right to him, took the paper bag in his hand, took out the hot coffee and, finally, after taking a sip, seemed to calm and looked up at him.

By only examining her gestures during the last minute, he didn't have the time to actually check her out. She was a head smaller than him, her hair, a brown curly mess, still falling natural and harmoniously down her both shoulders. Her eyes were a cold, metal green, surrounded by little dark spots – remaining of her last night's make-up, he guessed. There, he stopped, noticing her noticing him looking at her...

"You know, I'm sure Penelope left some make-up thingies, too," he commented, visibly still irritated by the idea of her wearing that blouse.

She guessed where that was leading and said in reply, taking one more sip of her coffee:

"Would you have preferred me to walk out in the mini, backless dress of last night?"

If he said _no_, he'd lose the argument; if he said _yes_ – God, that would have been worse.

"Whatever," was the single middle-like answer he could find. She didn't comment anything else as she finished her coffee and reached for one more.

"You bought five coffees?" she asked, looking in the bag and back up at him.

"The call seemed desperate," he nodded," So will you invite me in my house?" he asked randomly.

"Not until it's your house again. And this is still my place until someone gets me to my home," she replied stubbornly.

"Fine, let's just go – take the coffees; you paid them with your money," he said and, to her next glare, "What? It was your wallet I found in there." She raised her arms as 'whatever' and walked to his room, coming back with a dress - carefully folded , his telephone, his wallet and his keys.

"I thought it would be better if we make the exchange correctly. Here are your telephone, wallet and keys," she handed his belongings, waiting for him to do the same. After the exchange was made and she took her heels on, they walked out silently – awkwardly silently – down the stairs and into the street.

"Oh, dear, we're on the other side of Diagon Alley –why the Hell didn't you tell me I was near the Diagon Alley. I could have managed it myself," she cried exaggeratedly loud it seemed to him and he thanked Merlin there was barely a foot walking the streets at that time in a Sunday morning. Still, the shock of her knowing about Diagon Alley was more powerful – instead of irritated, he sounded surprised:

"How was I supposed to know you're a witch? You had many muggle devices..."

"So what? Many wizards and witches have now muggle devices! Who made that cell phone you have, the goblins?" she cut him off and once she started, he couldn't stop her," And there is this things called muggle-born. Yes, we're still here after the war. And, yeah, we're still connected with our world, even though we were educated as wizards.

"And I know you! You're the freak who wandered with that 'Prefect' badge even to the toilet when I was in school. Of course!" she clapped her hands as realizing something," You were one year older than me, now I recall – a stuck-up nose ... _that Penelope_'s boyfriend," she seemed about to laugh at the discovery and he still wondered what was so funny to remember about the school-time him.

"So Penelope...," she looked down at the blouse with concern for a moment," Ew, get this off of me!" she actually started raising that blouse before him to stop her, looking cautiously around the empty street.

"Are you idiot?"

"No, but what if I get such germs from this?" she pointed to her borrowed clothing.

He rolled his eyes again, suddenly blaming it all on Penelope. If she had been there, he wouldn't have been out at night, alone. He didn't even care how the woman had got in his house. He just wanted her as far away as possible.

"Here we are," he pointed to the Diagon Alley, "You can Apparate home now, though I think you could as well have done it earlier. The street was deserted," he said and couldn't hide the disappointment at such a late realize.

"I'll send these tomorrow," she pointed to her clothing again. Now that the drama was almost over, it was becoming perfectly awkward.

"Sure, err..." He should have stopped at 'sure'. He still didn't know her name and hated looking stupid – that didn't happen much, though.

"Audrey. My name is Audrey. Well, goodbye," she muttered and walked around the corner.

Percy paced once back and after some moments started walking back home. He took a look at his watch: seven o'clock – still very early. He still had time to get to work. Or maybe Sundays were really not for work...?


End file.
